At Elisa’s question, Ludger asked one in return.
It wasn’t because he didn’t understand what the term “special class” meant.
At least as far as he remembered, Seorn had never had a system called a special class.
Which meant that it must have been newly created during the three years he had been gone.
As if asking why she should even explain it, Elisa deliberately let her shoulders slump exaggeratedly.
“To be honest, I don’t like it very much either. It means placing distinctions among students who are supposed to receive guidance equally. Whether it’s good or bad, I think it goes against my own educational philosophy.”
“And yet, you approved the special class system for a reason?”
“Because it’s necessary.”
Elisa Willow answered crisply.
“It’s far from my personal convictions, but realistically, classes don’t always proceed the way I wish they would. As you know, Instructor Ludger, the level of students entering Seorn varies greatly every year.”
Ludger nodded, agreeing with that point.
Seorn was a special academy that taught magic, but that didn’t mean everyone who enrolled there was a complete novice to magic.
Noble students, in particular, had received systematic private magical education from an early age.
Their starting line was fundamentally different from that of students from commoner backgrounds, who rarely had such opportunities.
Laying a foundation several years in advance created a much larger gap than one might expect.
As students advanced through the grades, the initial gap gradually narrowed, but that didn’t apply to freshmen who had just enrolled.
“Of course, we do divide them into basic classes and advanced classes accordingly, but there’s something even more important than that.”
“You’re referring to differences in talent.”
Ludger already knew what Elisa was going to say.
In fact, it was something he himself had vaguely considered as an educator.
“I knew you’d understand, Instructor Ludger.”
“I’ve felt it myself, at least vaguely, while teaching students.”
Even if noble students had built their foundations several years earlier through advance learning, that alone wasn’t sufficient justification for operating a special class.
After all, Seorn’s decades-long history had already established countermeasures for that kind of situation.
But differences in individual talent rendered decades of accumulated systems almost meaningless.
“Even when given the same instruction, how it’s absorbed is fundamentally different. Effort matters, of course, but there are far too many cases where effort alone means nothing.”
Ludger empathized deeply with that as well.
Even if two students both invested ten units of time, one might /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ fully absorb ten units’ worth of instruction during that time.
Another, however, might gain only one unit’s worth from the same ten units of time.
For such a student to achieve results equal to others, they would need to pour in far more time and effort.
Conversely, some people used only one unit of time and still produced results several times greater than that.
Those commonly called geniuses belonged to this latter group.
“The biggest problem is children whose talent is excessively outstanding.”
“You mean geniuses who are peerless, who rapidly internalize even an educator’s teachings as their own.”
“I believe everyone should receive equal education. I have no objection to that belief. But at the same time, I can’t help thinking this as well: isn’t insisting on uniform education without considering a student’s level actually shackling the wings of children who could soar?”
Just from the way she spoke, it was clear how much Elisa had agonized over this issue.
“The overall level of incoming freshmen has been rising every year. And naturally, among that growing number, the proportion of children born with overwhelming talent has been increasing as well.”
Each year, Elisa reviewed the personal profiles of incoming students and compiled statistics on the proportion of particularly unusual individuals.
Surprisingly, starting three years ago, the general level of newly admitted students had continued to rise.
And in proportion to the size of the cohort, the number of students with truly exceptional talent had also increased.
“As headmaster, I must treat all students fairly. But at the same time, as an educator, I believe each student should at least be given clothing that fits them.”
Equality in teaching sounded like a noble ideal.
But in the end, that equality inevitably settled around the average—the midpoint of a standard distribution when looking at the student body as a whole.
Precisely because of that, some outliers were inevitably suppressed by the average.
Brilliant raw gemstones by nature.
To watch such gemstones lose their shine in the name of ‘for everyone’ was heartbreaking for an educator.
“I believe everyone has their own role to play. And an educator’s role is to help students perform their own roles to the best of their ability.”
That was why Elisa had no choice but to create a special class, even if it meant differentiating education among students.
“The problem is that this ‘special class’ is exactly what it sounds like—it’s for special students. Which means there aren’t many people capable of properly teaching students whose talent is that extraordinary.”
Seorn’s instructors were all elites, practically speaking, as they were people who taught magic.
But teaching geniuses was an entirely different matter.
They simply couldn’t be taught through ordinary methods.
“I’ve been squeezing time wherever I can to teach them myself, but as you know, the position of headmaster isn’t exactly leisurely.”
“I understand.”
After the Holy War, Elisa would have become even busier.
Seorn was enjoying unprecedented prosperity, and countless external figures seeking collaboration would have requested meetings with her.
Meeting sponsors, reforming systems, reviewing the condition of students and faculty every year—and on top of that, all the miscellaneous paperwork. The workload truly piled up like a mountain.
Even Ludger, who had once served as Director of Planning, knew that the headmaster’s position was anything but lighter—if anything, it was heavier.
The only reason the seat hadn’t been changing hands once a month was because the person sitting there was Elisa Willow.
Even the ambition-filled Hugo Burteg had wanted leverage over Elisa, but had never once tried to take the headmaster’s seat for himself.
That was how heavy a crown the headmaster had to bear.
“But now it’s different. Because someone even more outstanding than me has finally returned, hasn’t he?”
“You flatter me.”
At Ludger’s modest reply, Elisa puffed out her lips with a sulky expression.
“Oh, please. If the first human in history to use 8th-Circle magic acts that humble, what are the rest of us supposed to do? Anyway, I’d be truly grateful if Instructor Ludger would take charge of the special class.”
The special class.
This was something only Ludger could do, but at the same time, it was also Elisa’s way of being considerate.
Ludger had a three-year blank period.
Because of that, if he returned and immediately took a regular teaching position, he wouldn’t be able to avoid suspicions of favoritism.
In that case, maintaining him as an externally invited instructor under the pretext of overseeing the special class was the optimal solution to avoid outside criticism.
“You can do it, right?”
“Of course. You’ve given me the opportunity to return here—how could I refuse something like this?”
“I like how straightforward you are. I have high expectations for you, Instructor Ludger. To be honest, I’ve been finding it a bit exhausting to teach those children lately.”
“I understand. You’re extremely busy.”
“That’s part of it, but the kids’ personalities are really something else.”
Elisa shook her head as if she were thoroughly fed up.
Ludger inwardly realized that her expressions had become much more varied compared to the past.
She used to be someone whose true feelings were impossible to read, as if she were always wearing a mask.
Now, she seemed capable of being honest about her emotions.
Whether that change came with time, or whether she was only like this in front of him, he couldn’t say.
“I always want to face students with a smile, but these days’ freshmen have no respect for adults. How should I put it... they’re a bit rude? Ah, I’m sorry. That slipped out.”
Elisa smiled gently and covered her mouth with her hand, but anyone could tell it was intentional.
It seemed she had accumulated quite a bit of frustration while teaching those children.
‘Listening to her complain about kids these days... is it just a generational thing? This feels oddly familiar.’
Even in his previous life on Earth, people talked about MZ generations and the like.
In truth, that wasn’t something limited to 21st-century Earth.
Weren’t there records on ancient stone tablets complaining about how disrespectful kids were these days?
Different countries, different races, different eras—yet wherever people lived, it was always the same.
“But you mentioned that they’re exceptionally talented. From what you’re saying, it sounds like their personalities aren’t ordinary either.”
“They can’t help it. They’re children who already possess magical talent superior to anyone else. Naturally, they grow arrogant, and an ideology of looking down on others takes root. Sometimes they even end up disrespecting their teachers.”
Ludger suddenly recalled a few similar students he had taught before.
Most notably, the two who had taken first place in their respective first and second years.
They were fond memories now.
“So the term ‘special class’ doesn’t carry only positive connotations, it seems.”
“To be honest, I can’t say there are no problems of that sort. Their talent is so exceptional that teaching them isn’t easy. And they themselves feel absolutely no interest in ordinary classes.”
In a way, it was a classroom of students who had become outsiders within Seorn due to excessive genius.
He could understand why other instructors avoided it. It was like taking responsibility for a time bomb that could explode at any moment—who would want that?
Only someone who could remain unscathed even if it wasn’t a time bomb but a nuclear warhead would be able to handle it.
And in Elisa’s mind, the only person capable of that was sitting across from her right now.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to teach them well.”
“If it’s too difficult, you can be honest and say so. Or you could recommend someone else you know, Instructor Ludger.”
Two people came to Ludger’s mind.
One was, of course, Clinton Rothschild, but he was already a mage affiliated with the Imperial family, so that was impossible.
Among those with free status, the only remaining option was his mentor and adoptive mother, Grander.
“...I’ll do it.”
No matter how he thought about it, Grander teaching those so-called geniuses would never end well.
At Ludger’s words, Elisa’s face immediately lit up.
“Really? I knew you would!”
She promptly handed him the contract documents.
Along with them, she also gave him the list of students assigned to the special class.
“Take a look. There are far fewer of them than when you taught first-year classes before.”
“So this is this year’s first-year cohort.”
The number was six.
It wasn’t particularly large, but considering they were said to be so extraordinarily talented that even instructors struggled to teach them, it was more than he had expected.
As Ludger scanned the profiles, he spotted a familiar face.
“Oh? This child.”
“Oh? Do you know her?”
“I ran into her on my way here. She was alone, wearing the most bored and sullen expression in the world, so I sensed she wasn’t ordinary. But I never imagined she belonged to the special class.”
A girl with deep pink hair tied into twin tails that fell below her shoulders.
Perhaps due to lingering traces of mana, her hair formed a two-tone color with a deep navy blue mixed in.
Most likely, the navy was her original hair color, while the pink had changed under the influence of powerful mana.
Even in a color photograph taken with the latest model camera, her face was filled with dissatisfaction, which was rather amusing.
Hermoa Entiro.
Seeing her reminded him of Flora Lumos, who had attended his classes in her first year.
Her constitution—perceiving mana synesthetically—was similar as well.
“When are you planning to start the classes? Since it’s a special class, there’s no fixed curriculum. It’s entirely up to you, Instructor Ludger.”
This was a kind of privilege granted only to special class instructors.
After all, children called geniuses weren’t going to follow a rigid schedule anyway, so leaving it to the educator’s discretion was only natural.
Still, since this would be the long-awaited first class, Elisa had calculated that about a week would be needed to prepare.
“Tomorrow.”
Ludger’s answer, however, was simple.
“I’ll begin the class then.”
